It certainly is scary out there right now. And advertising is probably not the most secure business, given that clients are cutting budgets like the Skankees cut checks. But it's either that, or going into a restaurant kitchen. Oh, cooks are getting laid-off left and right, too.

//If things do go badly, be prepared for the Soxaholix to turn into PBS/NPR with regular "pledge drives" and other sorts of begging for scraps.//

Will the characters (beyond Lisa) break the fourth wall and appeal directly to us, by talking about how important Soxaholix is? Come from behind the show like Peter Sagal at WWDTM or Click and Clack do each quarter? That would be awesome! And hey, Valentine's Day is coming up- you could do the $100 gets you roses, a mug, AND a card saying you supported Soxaholix. The possibilities are endless. You can count on my donation! All fun aside, hang tight, hb. And good luck...

Oh Kaz, to the contrary! Seems to me that Tara, Steve and Circle are likely the ones doing work at their desks, buckling down, while Mike, Doug, Bill and Al hang around the water cooler and jabber about the Sox. :)

Wishing you well, HB. It is a serious jungle out there. 75,000 jobs evaporated y'day alone. Poof... any chance you could animate the Soxaholix a la Get Your War On? I'd like to see these characters sound like the voices in my head.

[John Updike's essay '' Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu'' - inspired by Williams's home run in his last at-bat - was published in the New Yorker magazine Oct. 22, 1960]]

Fenway Park, in Boston, is a lyric little bandbox of a ballpark. Everything is painted green and seems in curiously sharp focus, like the inside of an old-fashioned peeping-type Easter egg. It was built in 1912 and rebuilt in 1934, and offers, as do most Boston artifacts, a compromise between Man's Euclidian determinations and Nature's beguiling irregularities. Its right field is one of the deepest in the American League, while its left field is the shortest; the high left-field wall, three hundred and fifteen feet from home plate along the foul line, virtually thrusts its surface at right-handed hitters. On the afternoon of Wednesday, Sept. 28th, 1960, as I took a seat behind third base, a uniformed groundkeeper was treading the top of this wall, picking batting-practice home runs out of the screen, like a mushroom gatherer seen in Wordsworthian perspective on the verge of a cliff. The day was overcast, chill, and uninspirational. The Boston team was the worst in twenty-seven seasons. A jangling medley of incompetent youth and aging competence, the Red Sox were finishing in seventh place only because the Kansas City Athletics had locked them out of the cellar. They were scheduled to play the Baltimore Orioles, a much nimbler blend of May and December, who had been dumped from pennant contention a week before by the insatiable Yankees. I, and 10,453 others, had shown up primarily because this was the Red Sox's last home game of the season, and therefore the last time in all eternity that their regular left fielder, known to the headlines as ''Ted, Kid, Splinter, Thumper, TW, and most cloyingly, MisTer Wonderful,'' would play in Boston. ''What Will We Do Without Ted? Hub Fans Ask?'' ran the headline on a newspaper being read by a bulb-nosed cigar smoker a few rows away. Williams' retirement had been announced, doubted (he had been threatening retirement for years), confirmed by Tom Yawkey, the Red Sox owner, and at last widely accepted as the sad but probable truth. He was forty-two and had redeemed his abysmal season of 1959 with a - considering his advanced age - fine one. He had been giving away his gloves and bats and had grudgingly consented to a sentimental ceremony today. This was not necessarily his last game; the Red Sox were scheduled to travel to New York and wind up the season with three games there.

Porn always stimulates growth during a recession...to a point. Time to get back to what works.

Unemployment and alcohol can also be good for the humor vein, 'tis the way of the Hibernians...

So - how's this for 'silver lining': I was transiting via Tampa for re-jaculation to Central Asia a couple weeks ago, and got stuck staying in the Sheraton Suites. I knew something was wrong when I noticed everyone in the lobby wearing Yankee attire. Just my luck, I'm at the hotel which sponsors the 'Yankee Legends', where NYPD and FD guys pay $3000 to dress up like Ed Whitson and cover the field with their mythical heroes of yore, like Cecilio Guante, Jim Leyritz (maybe not), Randy Velarde, Mel Hall, and Lenn Sakata, with a 'cameo' by Chris Chambliss....

So after I didn't get the shit kicked out of me in the lobby (failed, but gave it the college try), I retired to my room and flicked on ESPN's "Armageddon Day" - all games where the team's on the brink.

Lo and behold, what graces my screen, but Game 4 2004 ALCS, in all its glory. As I turned the volume to '10' and 'aired the room a bit'...I recalled that God is Good...

By the way h.b., I know you don't require solicitations for your fine work, but perhaps a tip of the cap to John Updike today. Aside from the New Yorker, he also wrote a lot for Playboy. He's one of us...rest in peace...

As I was (re) reading Updike's classic essay, it struck me: although that game seems like such a very long time ago, things --- other than attendance figures --- haven't changed. Chants of "Papi, Papi, Papi" mimic those of 49 years ago. "We want Ted! We want Ted!"

The dimensions haven't changed, and neither has the beauty of watching a ball arch over that bullpen.

The crowd's adoration of our Sox may have been smaller in physical numbers, but obviously just as intense and loud and fulfilling.

Part of Updike's brilliance was the ability to stick you right in the heart of a situation. Usually one he had created, but in this case, just another Red Sox game.

We see black and white footage of that game, and hear Curt Gowdy's voice and think to ourselves, "how things have changed."

And then we (re) read that essay and realize, nothing has changed at all.

I wonder if we could change the "Budweiser" sign to the "Soxaholix" sign and get married under that instead??? That would be more fun..... alas. However, After the frightening display of knowledge of Disney Chanel shows, I'm not sure if there will be a wedding... am I too old for you Bob? I've out grown Pampers, and I'm not ready for Depends.....

I like this. I am a stranger to both of you but having a ready to be married couple on the same oddball message board is a most excellent development.

I think we are about to be indulged with the oh so fine sideline experience of observing two newlyweds take their first canoe ride together! If noone has ever seen this event before, by all means find a way to watch - just once - its worth the effort. Kind of like watching a married couple try to launch a boat at the public ramp. Bring on the beer and chips - there's gonna be a show!

Uh, anybody want to talk about the Sox? The supposed Saturday deadline for Tek is actually Friday. Mike Lowell will not be playing in the World Baseball Classic. Pitchers and catchers report in 14 days and 19 hours.

I like Tek. Any good redsox fan likes what he has done for us. He got bent over and poled by his agent. I'm not saying Tek shouldn't have known better, but that's what he pays that Borasshole for. Now the Borasshole has wrecked the contractual situation for the Captain. He must whisper good things in the ears of his clients 'cause they keep hiring him

Oh man, you hate Rabbit that bad, h.b.? It's not my favorite or anything, but I *did* feel compelled to keep reading (I'm on the third book). More (often) for the next interestingly-constructed sentence or "inner thoughts" insight than for what was actually happening to the characters, I admit. I don't usually like the lyrical/stream-of-consciousness stuff, but Updike's is way tolerable, comparatively.

And Abby, welcome aboard- we've heard so much about you, and I'm sure at least some of it is true. Since the blessed event is at home, do we have to wear the 'alternate' red jerseys? I wouldn't want to commit a faux pas by wearing a white uni to a wedding

Welcome, Abby! So nice to have more female blood here, and great to hear ur voice after feeling we know you from Bob! This is a creepy, loveable and surly bunch. Hearts of gold, dirty minds, and quick tongues, just how I prefer my friends. :) oh and they seem to know some stuff about baseball....